


As if he'd never left

by PloKoon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, It's about the longing, Yearning, anyways we know there's a happy ending down the line, but also Hope, dare i say, define melodrama, jonsa, with a side of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PloKoon/pseuds/PloKoon
Summary: For the Jonsa drabble festDay 1, Linger.Sansa is working on getting Jon back home again but the actual waiting part is a terrible thing. Missing someone is tough enough without having to see reminders of them around every corner.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24
Collections: Jon x Sansa Drabble





	As if he'd never left

**Author's Note:**

> It's okay if they suffer a bit when we all know there's going to be a happy ending at some point. Right?

Contrary to how she had thought it would be, it was the mornings that hit her the worst.

Jon had always loathed them, had come about slowly, huffed his answers the first hour as if he was still a boy and not a king at all. So sour, so very sweet, never changing. Not that they’d had an excess of those moments but he'd been so easy to get used to.

Now she found herself waiting every morning, anticipating him as the bell rung eight and he was supposed to finally come down the stairs, greet her there in the main hall, sit down beside her and drink his honeyed tea-

And there was... nothing.

No steps, no rustle of his cloak, only this unfathomable void of him-

Every morning the realization that she’d spend the entire day without him, again.

Or perhaps it was worse in the evenings, when she passed by his chambers out of habit to wish him a good night. It happened more seldom now even if she still ended up there too often for comfort, it would take some time to unlearn. And these, his rooms...

She’d kept the way he left them. Pieces of armour thrown carelessly on his bed, linen still turned from when he’d last gotten up. Shirts she’d mended, neatly folded on his dresser. The cloak he’d returned for her to keep that she'd hung over his desk chair. And gods, the desk itself, still littered with unfinished scrolls in his writing-

The tomb of a person who lived, just not there.

And as the days, weeks, months went by and the dust settled, as ashes spread softly on the floor when the last winds of winter sighed tiredly in through the chimney, she would not have it touched. He would, when he came home.

_He would._

And then the hurt would die.

In so many ways it was as if he’d never left, even if the walls were calling for him, the castle itself bereft and mourning. His name everywhere, around the corner of her every thought, and there was a feeling that soon, _soon_ he’d be home again. He was just a bit delayed, was all. Stuck up there on the other side of a sea of snow with waves high as mountains, stranded below the dip of the horizon.

And if he’d been able to bring home dragons, surely she’d be able to get _him_ back. This one man, hers, she would manage that. All she needed to do was figure out the right vessel and wait until things had settled down before she made her move. Bring him home.

_She would._

And then they’d live.


End file.
